I got cast to perform in the Genisis League at ComedySportz Chicago (which happened at the exact same time as my new job started and I had a house full of visitors and was without a bed - it was an intense beginning-of-Summer this year).
It was really exciting. Short form improv has always been my number one girl, and the people at ComedySportz are easily some of the best in the universe.
When our rehearsal schedule (which, since its improv - it should really be practice schedule) was announced my heart sank. Tuesdays 10 pm - midnight.
Think about what you're normally doing on Tuesday nights that late: You're either getting into trouble or you're getting into bed.
I didn't want to say no, but I also knew this summer was going to require more of my brain capacity than ones in the past (never get a real job, kids, it will get in the way of your socialimprov schedule).
So I said yes. And so for the past twelve weeks I have crawled into bed at 12:30 on Tuesday night, only to be awoken at 6:30 and required to be a real, high functioning adult for 8-10 hours the next day. Then on Wednesdays we got to be goofs on stage, an event that was always supposed to end around 9 or 10 and tended to actually end around 11 or 12. Making two late nights in a row. On school nights no less.
Please don't get me wrong - I am not complaining in anyway. I am so happy I got to have this experience and meet these people and do this thing that I love So.Much.
But I am realizing what a late night does to my body and mind now. While I have really not changed externally-physically in the past seven years - the internal changes sometimes shock me. My own body's incapacity to survive on two hours sleep and a diet coke is frustrating and unnerving and I really felt it this summer.
Gone are the days when a rehearsal that ends at midnight would be followed with a drinking session that ends at three. The four post-show drinks have now become one-or-two. The one night this summer I got coerced into doing shots, lead to a next morning of wishing the ground would swallow me up whole. I used to be able to do this and still get to work at 8:00 am*
I'm proud of myself for making it through this summer and having a great time. I am also proud of my own recognition of my limitations. I miss 23 year-old Rachel's stamina, but I am grateful for 28 year-old Rachel's common sense, even if it makes me feel humiliatingly old.
*Please note: this applies on weekdays only. I can still play like a champion on the weekend. Sometimes.